


The Hole Truth

by Book7BrokeMyBrain



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anonymous Sex, First Time, Glory Hole, Humor, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, The worst bathroom in Hogsmeade, drunken!Harry, eighth year, sex in bathrooms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 13:09:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1107232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Book7BrokeMyBrain/pseuds/Book7BrokeMyBrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry doesn't know what that hole in the bathroom is for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hole Truth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [accioslash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/accioslash/gifts).



> Written for the Snarry-A-Thon 2013.  
> For Accioslash. Thanks for giving me a prompt that involved Googling 'glory hole etiquette'.  
> Beta'd by Asnowyowl. All remaining errors are my own.

The only reason the Eighth Years spent any time in the Hog's Head was because they were allowed to. It certainly wasn't because it was clean or smelled nice or the food was good, because none of those things was true. It got them away from the castle on weekend nights, and away from the Frankie First-Years and the swooning Hero Groupies for a while. Were they ever that little? Well, Harry was still that little, almost, but that's beside the point. The point being that the Eighths were _adults_ , and could get smashed with impunity, and it was rather fun. Harry hadn't had a lot of fun in his life.  
Post-war politics made strange bedfellows, quite literally in this case, in that the Houses were all mixed together in the Eighth dorms. Harry was stuck in a room with Malfoy and Goldstein as well as Seamus and Dean, but it was all fine. They were learning from each other. It was... broadening. The Slytherins were certainly the salt of the earth when it came to matters not usually discussed in polite company.  
For instance.  
Harry returned from the loo, slipping into the booth. “They're out of toilet roll again. Just FYI.”  
“Ugh, Harry,” Seamus groaned. “Nobody actually uses the toilets for _toilets_ , here. They're disgusting.”  
“Well, what am I supposed to do? Stout makes my gut go all funny, sometimes.”  
“Oh, I don't know,” mused Malfoy, “perhaps drink something that doesn't look like Aberforth bathed the goats in it?”  
“It's a _toilet_. It's not a nice toilet, granted, but I used it for that which it was intended. So sue me. I know it's disgusting. It even has that big hole in the partition! Weird, right? Someone could look in.” The other boys sniggered behind their glasses. “What? So I'm shy! What's funny?”  
Anthony and Draco looked at each other in disbelief, until Draco took on the burden of educating The Boy Who Lived Under a Rock.  
“Potter. You know what that hole is there for, don't you?”  
“Why does it need a purpose? I just thought it was a knothole or something. What, is it for perverts to peep through?”  
“Oh, Jesus. Here we go. Firewhiskey!” Seamus called out to Aberforth, making a circling gesture over all their heads. “Doubles!” Everyone laughed. Harry blushed.  
“No, Potter. Not for peeping. It's a glory hole.” Getting an utter lack of recognition from that phrase, Draco turned to the other Gryffindors. “Didn't you two teach him anything? I mean, really. Potter, didn't you ever just want to get your cock sucked, no strings attached?”  
“Um, yes?”  
“'Um, yes.' Is that a question? Don't you hate having to romance some girl into pleasuring you? Such a waste of time and effort. Sometimes it's just easier to let a bloke do it. He likes it, you like it, no fuss, just straightforward relief of sexual tension.”  
Harry turned a horrific shade of red. The drinks arrived and he snatched up a glass and threw it down his throat. At least now there was a reason for the color of his face.  
Mercifully, Draco dropped the line of questioning, and the others changed the subject, but Draco kept a knowing eye on him the rest of the night.  


  


* * *

  
Harry was pretty far gone after a further two hours of Firewhiskey shots. He never was able to hold his liquor. He told himself that it was because he was lean, not because he was scrawny. He took comfort in knowing that even the burliest of imbibers needed the loo periodically, so they couldn't tease him when he finally got up and shambled tightly toward the bar and the toilets.  
Then he walked into a wall of black. He caught hold of a bunch of robes and looked up. Shit.  
“Hullo, Headmaster. Lovely evening, isn't it?”  
“Potter.” Snape gripped him firmly by the arms with spidery fingers digging painfully into his triceps, and pushed him back, off the tips of his boots. “You've trod on my toes, you imbecile. And it's not evening. It's one in the morning. Time you and your classmates should be getting back, don't you think?”  
No, Harry didn't think. Think so. Didn't think so. Oh, god he was drunk.  
“Potter.” Snape leaned down as Harry tipped his head back. “Go put some water on your face. Then leave. You've had enough.”  
Was that Snape being nice to him? Yes it was! He wasn't being mean. Harry smiled.  
“You were so hurt!” Harry blurted. “I was sooo worried. You were lying there, with Madame Pomfrey, in her – her room, the thingy – Infirmary -- in your bed. You died! I'm so happy you didn't--” Harry threw his arms around Snape's ribs and hugged. “Hey, you're skinny like me! That's nice....”  
The next thing he knew, Draco was dragging him to the loo, away from the Headmaster, which was sad, because he'd enjoyed hugging him. A lot. A real lot.  
“No more hard liquor for you, Potter.” He turned on the taps with as little finger contact as possible. “Butterbeer only. Get your head under that. Come on.” He stepped aside and Harry ducked his head under the gushing water.  
“Feels nice. Not too cold. Thanks, Malfoy. You're not really an arse.”  
“No I'm not, turns out. But mostly, I was protecting the Headmaster. From a groper. That's you, Potter, you idiot.”  
Harry laughed, still with his head under the faucet. He pulled away and shook like a dog. Malfoy blew him mostly dry with a charm, and that was nice, too.  
“Right. Well, I'm going back to the table before I start to smell like the goat that no doubt has kidded in the end cubicle over there. You stay here, do your business or what have you, and I'll see you in a bit. Don't be long. It's late, the others want to leave soon. You hear me, Potter?”  
“Yes.” Harry nodded solemnly. “Got it. Thanks.” He leaned heavily on the sink and stared at Draco in the mirror as he left.  
He stood like that for a while. When he realized that his palms were going numb and he really needed a pee, he turned and chose the same cubicle he'd used before. “The devil you know...” Harry said, as he urinated.  
Harry really needed a small rest, he decided. He lowered the lid on the toilet and sat, leaning against the partition. He closed his eyes, just for a moment.  


* * *

  
Harry woke up. He felt less drunk. So that was good. He was sitting in a nasty, dark loo that smelled of goats and other musks, and that was not.  
Still, he felt much better having soaked his head and swallowed some water. Malfoy was all right.  
Harry cringed as he recalled actually hugging Severus Snape. He rolled the side of his head against the wooden partition and moaned in embarrassment. He remembered how warm and earthy the man had smelled, and then moaned softly for another reason. He pressed his palm over his groin, wriggling in place. He wondered how unusual it was for men to wank in a public restroom. He glanced at the hole beside his face, decided 'not very' for this location, but thought better of it.  
The door creaked open, and someone came in. He stood still in the middle of the room, not going to a cubicle nor the sinks, so that was odd. Harry wondered if maybe one of his friends had come in to check on him.  
The man strode to the stall beside Harry's. He efficiently opened the door, stepped through, and shut it behind him. The hair on the back of Harry's neck stood on end as the sounds of movement registered as familiar.  
He heard the soft rustle of cloth, and a whispered spell. _“Sepio maxima”_ came from the stall, in a low voice. There was a soft squelching of flesh against flesh. Harry shuddered.  
The man shifted around in the tight space. Harry looked down as two black boot tips invaded from the other side. He tilted his head to make out the tentacle-sucker pattern of his own trainers left there in dirt when he'd stepped on Snape's toes before. If he had any doubt left, he wouldn't after seeing the ends of those bony, stained fingers hook over the top of the partition as Snape pressed himself against the wood and jutted his cock through the hole.  
Harry backed away. Close to hyperventilating, he leaned as far away as he could. What was the etiquette here? This was something he'd never learned from Aunt Petunia. From which side to serve a guest, yes. Refusing cock at a glory hole, not so much.  
Snape cleared his throat impatiently.  
It was a nice cock.  
It belonged to a complicated man.  
Harry reached out a finger and ran it underneath the length. Snape shuddered, and pressed in harder. Harry gripped it lightly and stroked.  
“Put your mouth on me now, or I'm leaving.”  
Harry dropped his hand. He leaned forward, sticking out his tongue. He grimaced. He softened his tongue and licked up one side to the tip. He pulled back, not sure what to do. He'd never had oral sex before. He'd only wanked himself, and hands were different to mouths.  
“Stop fucking around, or I will leave. Suck me off. _...Now._ ”  
Fuck.  
Harry's head spun with arousal. It was the 'Now' that did it. He shifted, half squatting, braced between the walls. He leaned over and pressed a soft, open kiss to the cockhead.  
“Better. Get on with it.”  
Harry made his mouth soft and wet. He slid his lips slowly over the tip, moving the folds of foreskin back and forth as he slid more and more shaft in. Snape shoved forward unexpectedly, but Harry adapted. Snape hummed his approval. Harry's body thrummed with arousal, his only goal to get Snape to make that noise again.  
He pulled off, sucked at the head, fondled the frenulum with his tongue. Snape writhed against the wood.  
“More. Suck harder! Teeth! _Fuck_ , watch your teeth, goddamn you!”  
Harry followed his directions. He didn't know what he should do with his hands. One ended up at the base of Snape's cock, holding him still, the other palm pressed against his own arousal, wanting so much to bring himself off. That would have to wait.  
“Bend forward. Let me fuck your mouth.”  
Harry bent, braced a hand on either side of the hole, and rounded his mouth, covering his teeth. Snape slid in like he was coming home. Harry hollowed and sucked as best he could, but it was really about being a warm hole. He tried to be the best orifice he could be, given his inexperience.  
Snape seemed to find it to his liking. He humped his body against the wall, shoving himself rhythmically for a minute, until his thrusts became shallower and faster. Harry was treated to a sonorous, guttural moan that originated from the man's toes as he came, slamming the partition once, twice, then holding tensed in suspension, until he melted, pulling his softening cock away from Harry's lips with a quiet 'pop'. Lips which were dripping with drool and come.  
He clamped his mouth shut and quickly lifted the toilet lid, spitting into the water.  
Of course, there was still no toilet paper. He wiped his face on his sleeve.  
Snape put himself to rights. “Thank you. Good night.” And he was gone.  
Harry worked out that he ought to wait to leave the men's room, give Snape a chance to leave the pub.  
He'd forgotten about himself. He sat back on the toilet and took his cock out. He hadn't lost much arousal. He replayed the whole episode as he gripped himself, stroked, pulled. It was the memory of Snape's iron grip on his arms that sent him over, the feel of the fingertip bruises forming on his skin when he ran his other hand up to feel the tender spots, the memory of the man's body in his arms that set him off. Harry came silently, gawping like a fish out of water, spending against the wall, then slumping with a smile on his face.  
Well. Now he knew what the hole was for, didn't he? And it was brilliant.  


* * *

He figured it was a fair fifteen minutes he waited in the loo before he ventured out. He looked around, but his group was gone. Except for Draco. He was sat at the bar, waiting.  
He assessed Harry as he drew nearer. “Circe's tits, Potter. Look at those lips. Red as a rose.”  
Harry pressed his mouth shut tightly, but couldn't contain a grin. “Where is everyone?”  
“Sent them back after I left you in there. Told them I'd wait for you.”  
“That makes no sense. Why?”  
“Because I know that Severus likes to use that glory hole, and that he'd never use it if he imagined you might be in it. So I told him I'd sent you home with the others.”  
Harry's mouth dropped open. “How--? Why—?”  
“Peace offering? Brownie points? Because it's good to have The Chosen One owing you a favor? You are as obvious as a Hufflepuff when it comes to Severus, Potter. And I want him to be happy. He deserves that much.” Draco drained his glass. “Come on. It's late. Let's get back.” He handed Harry his jacket, and they walked up the road toward the castle.  
“That was very sneaky, Malfoy. Well done.”  
“On a Slytherin scale of sneakiness? Hardly a four. Wait 'till you see how we tell him it was you in that stall. After you graduate.”  
Harry couldn't wait for the whole truth to come out.

 

 

4/10/2013


End file.
